


Do I Know You?

by coolcrocs



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bubby and Coomer are both Transmasc, Family Reunions, Gen, Half-Life VR But the AI is Self-Aware, M/M, Mentions of past kidnapping, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Kidnapping, Siblings, but also crossover, he/they pronouns for Bubby, meeting the brother you never knew you had at 39 years old, this fic will feature Judaism (written by a Jew)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolcrocs/pseuds/coolcrocs
Summary: When he starts working at Black Mesa, Isaac Kleiner encounters the most familiar stranger he's ever met.
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 111
Kudos: 226





	1. Black Mesa Research Facility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces.

“Hey boss? I got a bit of an issue when it comes to filling that position in Anomalous Materials.”

“Seriously? You’re coming to me for a simple hiring problem?”

“Well, I figured I should run this by you, first. We got this great applicant, yeah? Perfect, could do great things in the field, blah blah blah, stuff like that. Anmat seemed _real_ excited about him.”

“So why are you here?”

“See, as a precaution, I run potential hires through the system. And I can’t fathom why, but this guy is on our blacklist.”

“And Anmat wants to hire him anyway?”

“I’d be lying if I said he wouldn’t be a valuable asset to the company.”

“Let me check. What’s his name?”

“Isaac Kleiner.”

“Alright… Kleiner… Isaac… Oh.”

“What is it?”

“Yeah, this is old. He got a pre-emptive blacklisting almost forty years ago due to a project in Biological Research, but that’s been pretty much abandoned by now. You can give Anomalous Materials the go-ahead to hire him.”

“Thanks, boss. I’ll let them know immediately.”

\- ○ -

Working at Black Mesa is, honestly, not at all what Isaac Kleiner was expecting.

The entire facility is a shoddy mess of occupational hazards and shoddy wiring, to the point where a _single_ disaster could honestly take down a whole building. Kleiner’s been on more than one shaky tram ride that he was convinced would end with him and the other passengers falling to the ground below. It’s only thanks to the hundreds of lengthy NDAs and thousands of dollars of hush money that Black Mesa hasn’t been taken to court.

Also, the supervisors here are _terrible_. They push their workers to their breaking points, just trying to wring as much productivity out of them as they can before they have to spend all their vacation days for a break. It’s not an unheard of practice in research facilities, but still, Kleiner thinks they’re way more extreme than anywhere else.

But the people… the people at Black Mesa are something else. And in a break from the trend, that’s not a bad thing.

For example, Harold Coomer! Kleiner met him his first week, which was natural, considering they work in the same department. Anomalous Materials is a bit of a rigid working environment, but despite his clearly robotic arms and legs, Coomer seems friendly enough.

There is one incident, though.

Kleiner is struggling to yank his lab coat from the back of his locker. He’s starting to regret not organizing beforehand, but he supposes he can always do it later.

That’s why he’s a bit distracted when Coomer glances into his locker as he passes. And it’s the reason he’s so startled when he shouts, “Oh, what a lovely pair!”

At first, Kleiner assumes—or rather, hopes—that Coomer is talking about the photo of his parents that he has perched on the upper shelf. It is, after all, the bigger of the two frames he has, so obviously it would draw more attention. But no, when Kleiner turns to face Coomer, he finds that he’s fully focused on the smaller picture, where a small boy sits beaming, holding an infant in his lap.

“Is that of you?” Coomer tilts his head as he asks.

Silently, Kleiner glances between the picture and Coomer. Making a decision, he reaches from the picture, holding it out to Coomer.

He points to the boy, a slight smile on his face as he says, “That’s me. I was around five and a half, here.”

“Really?” Coomer seems to inspect the photo for a moment. “You know what? I think I can see it.” He looks back at the photo. “Who’s the baby, then?”

“Ah, that’s-” Kleiner swallows down a few emotions. “That’s my sister, Bethany. My only sibling.”

“She looks like quite the darling,” Coomer comments, and if that doesn’t bring back the decades of lost time…

“Goodness, no,” Kleiner laughs breathlessly. “She was the crankiest little baby ever. Hated everyone outside of our family, could barely get to sleep…” He remembers late nights, standing by his mother with his hands over his ears as she fruitlessly tried to get Bethany to sleep. In those moments, he used to wish desperately that she would just disappear, so the three of them could finally get some sleep.

Well, half of that wish came true.

“That picture was a bit of a fluke,” Kleiner explains. “She, er… we lost her a few weeks after.”

Coomer’s face drops. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s fine.” Kleiner places the picture back in his locker, closing it firmly. “I like to remember her.”

\- ○ -

Kleiner meets Coomer’s partner about a week later, though only briefly. He’s sitting in the Anomalous Materials office, Coomer stood in front of him, reading over his equation. He rubs his chin and glares at the mathematics.

“Something’s clearly wrong with it, but I can’t figure out,” Kleiner sighs. “I’ve read the whole thing over ten times.”

“Maybe you should take a break and come back to it later,” Coomer suggests, almost hopefully. “A clear head could help your productivity.”

“I need it done by tomorrow, as well as about ten other things,” Kleiner frowns. “If I don’t finish it now, I might forget it.”

“Well, you could-”

They’re interrupted by the office door bursting open along with a shout of, “HAROLD!”

Standing in a doorway is a lanky figure, taller than either of them. They’re wearing a sweater and jeans and, notably, no lab coat. They’ve got thick glasses, just like Kleiner. They have the same brownish-black hair as him, too, even starting to gray in the same way Kleiner had a few years earlier.

Despite being a stranger, they’re eerily familiar.

Coomer’s reaction shocks Kleiner out of his weird deja vu. “Ah, Bubby! What are you doing here?”

As they approach, Bubby—apparently—produces a brown paper bag. “You left your lunch at home.”

“Oh!” Coomer realizes, taking the bag. “I guess I did. Thank you, darling.”

Bubby mumbles something to themself, but Coomer doesn’t seem to listen as he wraps an arm around their hips, pulling them to his side. “Bubby, this is Isaac Kleiner!” He gestures towards the man. “We work together here.”

Finally, Bubby seems to notice Kleiner. They squint at him, almost appearing confused by his presence. But that barely lasts a few seconds, as they quickly mutter, “Uh, hi,” and look away.

“Kleiner, this is my partner, Bubby,” Coomer explains. “They work in Chemical Engineering, but they’re off for the week since the trams are offline.”

“It’s, uh-” The sense of familiarity returns. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Bubby shifts on their feet. “They said I had to be in and out, so-” They catch sight of the paper in Coomer’s hand. “You wrote x instead of a.”

And after pressing a quick kiss to Coomer’s head, Bubby is gone.

Coomer looks back at the equation. “Well, look at that! They’re right!” He hands it back to Kleiner, pointing out the error.

Almost mindlessly, Kleiner takes his work back. Something about the encounter leaves him unsettled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i've been working on this one for a bit, so here it is. bubby and kleiner are siblings au!
> 
> i'll answer questions on [tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)! check me out!


	2. Further Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Mesa is a little fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw, bubby gets slapped offscreen, but it's heard.

Bubby is deeply disturbed by Coomer’s new coworker in a way that they can’t place. Maybe it’s the fact that, when they look at him, they see a slightly older version of themself, but to the left. Like how their hair’s the same color, but their cuts are different. Or how they both wear glasses, but Kleiner’s are squares and Bubby’s are more circular. Small details that make the two of them similar, yet not quite the same.

Still, though, Bubby doesn’t see a need to make a big deal about it. They don’t work in Anomalous Materials, so if they’re lucky, they might never have to interact with Isaac Kleiner again.

Of course, Bubby’s never been lucky.

“I think you’d like him, Bubby,” Coomer tells them. They’re snuggled up in bed together, Bubby attempting to drift off despite Coomer’s best efforts.

Bubby groans. “Stop trying to make me make friends.” They bury their face in Coomer’s chest in an attempt to drown him out.

“I’m just saying,” Coomer continues, “I would like to have some friends down here. And I think you could use one, too.”

“Fine, whatever,” Bubby shoves a spare pillow into Coomer’s face. “Stop talking, I’m sleepy.”

It wouldn’t be until the morning that Bubby would realize that, in their tiredness, they had actually agreed with Coomer.

\- ○ -

It starts with a simple request. Coomer, while rummaging through his bag, realizes that he has both the keys to his Black Mesa issued dormitory. Which would usually be alright, he can always just let Bubby in with an apology.The complicating factor is that Bubby’s working a late shift tonight, which means that Coomer will be sleeping like a log by the time they make it home.

“You live in the singles’ dorms, correct?” Coomer asks Kleiner while the two are on their way out from Anomalous Materials.

“Yes, I do,” Kleiner replies. “Why?”

“Well, that tram line is on the way to Chemical Engineering, and…” Coomer dangles the spare set of keys. “I accidentally brought Bubby’s keys with me today.”

Kleiner glances at the keys, smiling a bit when he catches sight of the keychain. Bubby had seemed to be a bit of a misanthrope when they encountered each other a while ago, so the fact that they apparently had a cute little dragon keychain was amusing.

“You want me to bring them their keys?” Kleiner reasons.

Coomer nods. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

Kleiner’s really got to figure out how to say no to people, because he agrees without hesitation. And then, he spends the whole tram line towards Chemical Engineering nervous out of his mind. Bubby did _not_ at all seemed to be pleased to meet him before, how are they going to react to him showing up out of nowhere with their keys?

So Kleiner practices what he’s going to say in his head. As the tram shudders to a stop outside its destination, Kleiner keeps his prepared greeting in the front of his mind.

It’s at this point that Kleiner realizes another flaw in his plan. He has no clue how to get around Chemical Engineering. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be _too_ hard to find the only person working late, but really, he should have asked more questions before parting ways with Coomer.

When he hears muffled voices, Kleiner thinks, _‘Ah! This is the way to go!’_

When he realizes that the muffled voices are shouting, though, Kleiner stops dead in his tracks outside the office.

“You can’t fucking-” one voice says. “Nobody else here has to work these crazy hours!”

“You aren’t everybody else,” a second voice responds, cold and indignant.

“I can’t handle this,” the first voice states harshly. “I have a life outside of here.”

“That’s a privilege you’ve earned. Don’t make us reconsider.”

“Like you could fucking do anything about it,” the first voice spits. “What else are you going to do with me? The project’s dead! You couldn’t hurt me if you-”

_Smack!_

“You listen to me, you little brat,” the second voice suddenly shouts. “You were put in this department because we need you here, and you’re going to do the work we tell you to do! This is what we made you for!”

The first voice is silent. Without another word, the second figure storms out of the room, brushing past Kleiner as if he weren’t even there. As he leaves, an uneasy tension follows him.

As silence fills the hall, Kleiner waits for a moment. Then two. Then three. Gently, he raps on the office door in front of him.

“Y-yeah?” Bubby croaks out from inside.

Kleiner enters the office, finding Bubby sitting on the floor against the wall, their knees drawn to their chest. He holds out the keys. “Coomer asked me to bring you these.”

It takes a second for Bubby to respond, looking towards the keys and back towards Kleiner. There’s a clear red mark on the side of their face. With a sigh, they hold out their hand. “Thanks.”

But after dropping the keys in Bubby’s hand, Kleiner’s surprised to find that his first instinct isn’t to just turn around and walk away. Instead, he sits down right next to Bubby and waits.

Bubby retreats back in on themself, practically curled into a ball. After a long bout of quiet, Kleiner finally decides to speak.

“Are you alright?” he asks them.

Bubby peeks out at him from behind their arms. They squint, as if studying Kleiner, before looking away. “No,” they admit. “You… heard that, didn’t you?”

Kleiner doesn’t respond, but apparently the look he gives Bubby is enough of an answer.

“I was made down here,” Bubby reveals solemnly. “Well, not in Chemical Engineering, but… Black Mesa made me.”

The first thought Kleiner has is _‘That’s absurd.’_ Because there’s no way Black Mesa has the capabilities to make an entire person from scratch. Hell, their cloning projects have barely taken off! But, strangely, he finds that some part of him trusts what Bubby says. So instead, he asks, “They have that kind of technology?”

Bubby frowns. “I don’t know the exact process. I’m not allowed to know a lot about my project.”

“Well, I think he was wrong,” Kleiner tells Bubby. “You deserve some time off.”

“Okay,” Bubby replies automatically.

“No, really,” Kleiner states. “I know we’ve never really spoken before, but you seem like a good person, Bubby. Coomer clearly loves you, he talks about you a _lot_.” He chuckles to himself at that. “You two deserve some time together.”

Surprisingly, Bubby laughs, tired but genuine. It’s almost familiar in a way that Kleiner can’t place, like something he heard long ago, but different enough that he can’t place it. Then, to his shock, Bubby leans against him, resting their head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Bubby smiles, but Kleiner’s not sure what they’re so happy about.

It’s comforting, too. Kleiner once again has that sense of deja vu, as if something like this has happened before. Maybe that’s just the kind of vibe Bubby has. They were made in a lab, so perhaps they’re just familiar to everyone they meet.

Suddenly, Bubby looks up at Kleiner and glares. “Don’t tell Coomer about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! what the fuck? soft sibling moments who don't know they're related?
> 
> check out my [tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)


	3. Biological Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The status changes.

The prospect is simple. Coomer and Kleiner have a report due on Monday, and they’re running short on time to write it. So Coomer, as friendly as he is, decided to invite Kleiner over to his and Bubby’s dorm for dinner, following which they would finish up their work.

But the preparation? It’s absolutely killing Bubby.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bubby swears at the boiling pot, quickly turning back to their fiancé. “Harold, we've already ruined dinner. Spaghetti is _way_ too cliche!”

“You’re overthinking it,” Coomer attempts to calm his partner. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Bubby crosses their arms. “It’s not just spaghetti! This is the first time we’re having a friend over! It needs to go well!”

Coomer laughs jovially. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to scrap the pasta and make something else!”

Bubby groans. “What would we serve, then? Sandwiches?!” they gesture to the kitchen clock, which reads 6:55. “We don’t have enough time to start from scratch!”

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Five minutes early, and Bubby is so startled he fumbles with the tongs they’re holding.

Coomer slaps Bubby’s back. “I guess it will have to do, then!” he declares, setting off towards the door before Bubby can say anything else.

For a brief second, Bubby is too stunned to follow. “Wait, Harold!” he shouts, running after him. “We can still cancel!”

\- ○ -

For all Bubby’s worrying and whining, dinner ends up a huge success. Spaghetti, as it turns out, is a universally loved and adored meal, and is quick to modify to match the needs of the consumer. The only real issue that occurs relating to the meal is when Kleiner begins to gather his dishes, and Bubby makes a show of snatching his plate away from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bubby glares down at him. “You’re our guest. Go do your work with Harold.”

Kleiner appears flustered. “Well, I could at least take it to the sink-”

“No, my house,” they counter. “Sit on the couch now and write your report.”

Bubby allows themself a victory smirk as Kleiner backs off, holding his hands up in faux defeat and leaving to join Coomer. Of course, since the kitchens in Black Mesa’s couples dorms can only really be classified as part of the living room, he still has a front row seat to Kleiner and Coomer’s report-writing process, even if he’s preoccupied with washing the dishes.

There’s something about the situation Bubby has found themself in that they can’t quite describe. Coomer and Kleiner chatting in the background as they clean up dinner, half listening to the two of them laugh at an offhand comment. At its core is a familiarity that they felt back when they met Isaac for the first time. The knowledge that they had met this person before, but for the life of them, they couldn’t figure out where.

But he's happy, he realizes. Coomer and Kleiner get along, and he’s happy about it.

Maybe this is friendship?

Their musings are interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

“I got it!” they shout towards the couch before Coomer can even think about standing. He dries his hands with a spare rag, answering the phone as they make their way into the bedroom.

“Hello? Who is this?” they ask.

 _“B? It’s Dr. Cynthia,”_ the voice on the other end responds. _“Are you available right now?”_

Bubby closes the bedroom door behind themself with a soft click. Best not to disturb Harold and Isaac.

“Is everything alright?” Bubby questions. Usually it’s great to hear from Dr. Cynthia, or rather, Dr. Grey. She’s been on their project for as long as they can remember, and she’s always treated them with a kindness that Dr. Daniels had been loath to show. But a random phone call so late in the evening, especially with the clear stress in Cynthia’s voice, can’t be a good thing.

 _“B, I’ve been in meetings all day,”_ Dr. Cynthia sighs. _“Dr. Daniels died last night. They’ve been trying to shut down your project for good, but uh… I’ve been dealing with the loose ends.”_

Bubby feels their stomach twist, and their heart is racing a mile a minute. “Am I safe?”

 _“Oh gosh, Bubby. You’re more than safe,”_ she assures him. _“I made sure of that. If you can come down tonight, we can talk it through in person.”_

They glance towards the door, beyond which they can still hear Isaac and Harold speaking to each other, muffled. To be honest, they were planning on settling down with a book they’d been working through. But this sounds way more important than finishing up _The Great Gatsby_.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll…” they begin looking around for their keys. “I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

Dr. Cynthia says something else before hanging up, but Bubby doesn’t quite hear it. There’s blood rushing through their ears. Dr. Daniels is dead. The literal worst bastard in the entire world is gone, and for some reason, Bubby is scared.

They leave the dorm in a bit of a haze, grabbing his keys, apologizing to Kleiner and muttering a quick explanation to Harold before he goes. Harold seems concerned, but when Bubby tells him it’s fine, he’s also saying the same thing to himself.

\- ○ -

It only takes about an hour for the folks at Biological Research to explain everything to Bubby. What they have planned for him isn’t actually that bad. Obviously, Black Mesa’s higher ups aren’t letting them go completely, but free reign of the facility without having any obligations to Biological Research is more than they expected. Worst case scenario, Black Mesa was going to kill them off, so at least they get to live.

Plus, they’re going to actually be paid for their work now. That’s very nice.

The real surprise is when Dr. Cynthia slides a folder labelled B-K55 towards him. It’s thick, which is expected, considering it’s from an almost forty year-old experiment.

“Is that my file?” Bubby tilts their head.

Dr. Cynthia nods. “I got access to the fully unredacted version today. I actually learned some stuff.”

Bubby hesitates. “And I’m allowed to read it?”

“Well, yes, but,” Dr. Cynthia glances at the file. “There’s something you should know first.” She opens the file, flipping towards some of the earlier documents. “About your origins.”

She points, and Bubby follows her gaze. Paperclipped to the document are several photographs of a small child, around a year old, with a head of dark hair. In one picture, the baby is sitting in the grass and laughing, reaching their hands towards something offscreen. In another they’re standing, though clearly holding onto someone’s leg for support; their little hands are clenching onto the person’s pants for dear life. There are more pictures like it, startlingly domestic scenes that make absolutely no sense to be inside of a classified file from a sketchy research facility. At least, not until Dr. Cynthia speaks.

“Bubby,” she says. “Black Mesa didn’t make you.”

And suddenly, it clicks.

That’s not just any child. That’s Bubby.

Bubby _before_ Black Mesa got its claws on him. They drag the file closer, and just looking at the pictures takes their breath away. That’s an actual human being, and from the looks of it, one who had a family too. One of these pictures is just them being held by an unseen individual, but they look so happy to be there, close to someone who loves them.

They feel like they were just hit by a truck.

“Holy shit,” they manage to choke out. “I’m a real person.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't want to come up with a new bastard name so i just made him dr. daniels, the bastard from one of my other boomer fics
> 
> anyway. it's gonna happen next chapter.
> 
> check out my [tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)!


	4. B-K55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubby does some reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor content warning, there are allusions to a child being taken from their family in the last section. if you want to skip it, just feel free to only read the last 3 paragraphs, since it sums up what bubs learned from that.

It isn’t actually that late when Bubby makes it back to their dorm, around nine at night, but they’re still a little shocked to find Coomer waiting for them at their kitchen table. They’ve barely managed to close the door, file weighing heavily in their hand, before Coomer’s on them.

“Bubby!” he shouts, and before Bubby knows it, Harold’s yanking them down into a hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay, you’ve been gone for so long!”

“It was an hour,” Bubby comments. They try to draw back, but Coomer just pulls them further into the hug, cradling their head against his shoulder

“They’ve never called you after hours for a noble reason. Did they try something?” His tone turns uncharacteristically harsh. “I swear Bubby, if they did anything, I’ll march down there and I’ll-”

“Harold.” Bubby shimmies out of Coomer’s grasp, tucking the folder under their arm and taking his hands into their own. “It was just a meeting. I’m fine.” He glances past Coomer, into the kitchen. “Did Kleiner leave already?”

“We wrapped up about thirty minutes ago,” Coomer says, but he seems unconvinced. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Bubby assures him. He grabs the folder once more. “Actually, well… it sounds like there isn’t going to be any more testing?”

“What do you mean no more testing?” Coomer glances down at the file in Bubby’s hands. “What happened?”

Bubby sighs. “I’m so tired. This has been the longest night of my life.” They pinch the bridge of their nose. “Can we talk in bed?”

Coomer’s hand cups Bubby’s chin, thumb lightly brushing back and forth on their cheek. It’s a simple gesture, but early in their relationship, Harold had caught Bubby lightly ghosting a finger along his right cheek. When Bubby explained that it was calming to them, in a strange way, Coomer realized he had discovered his partner’s instant relax button.

Bubby leans into the touch, smiling in the same content way they do whenever Coomer uses his special calming technique on them. They place their hand on top of his, holding it there.

“What would I do without you?” Bubby wonders aloud, all the love in the world in their voice.

\- ○ -

Bubby ends up spilling the beans to Coomer with their face buried into his chest, voice slightly muffled. It's a little difficult to understand them, but based on how tightly they're gripping onto him, it seems like Bubby needs this.

When morning comes, Coomer let's Bubby sleep in, quietly slipping from their grasp. It’s a Saturday, too, so at least they don’t have to worry about work. With all the stress that Biological Research put them through the night before, they deserve it.

As he leaves the bedroom, Coomer spots the file. Bubby had left it on their bedside table before they went to sleep, making plans to sort through it when they woke up. He’s struck by the feeling that, whatever’s written inside there, it’s not going to be pleasant to read.

Maybe he should get started on breakfast.

\- ○ -

For as long as Bubby can remember, Biological Research had told him that he was _their_ creation. That his DNA was specially crafted by the sharpest minds Black Mesa had to offer, so of course there was nobody out there. He had no mother, but in the file, there was a picture of a woman who held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. He didn’t have a father either, even though the file clearly showed him being lifted by a large pair of hands. And there certainly weren’t any siblings, despite the small hands he held onto as he tried to stand.

Reading that file would go against everything he thought he knew. Everything Black Mesa _wanted_ him to think.

So maybe Bubby’s a little nervous. They’ve been on shaky foundations ever since Dr. Cynthia’s phone call and their meeting yesterday, and they’re pretty sure that there’s a bomb inside that file that’s going to knock them out for _at least_ a whole day.

If—and that’s a huge if—Black Mesa kept information on Bubby’s family, he isn’t sure what to expect from it. What if they hated him, so much that they wanted to get rid of him? Is that even possible? To hate a baby so much that you’d just give them away?

But the alternative almost seems worse. Bubby’s family could have loved him, more than even the nicest scientists at Black Mesa ever showed them. And, for whatever reason, they lost him.

The willful ignorance almost seems preferable. If he loses either way, then maybe the best strategy is not to play.

The only problem is the fact that Harold can see right through them.

“Bubby, I thought you were going to read through your file today?” Coomer asks when he catches them curling up on the couch.

“Oh, uh-” Bubby struggles. “Yeah, but I’m going to take a nap first.”

“You woke up less than an hour ago,” Coomer counters.

Bubby shoots him a glare. “I’m tired.”

“Nope! You aren’t!” Coomer sits down on the couch, laying a hand on the side of Bubby’s head. “You’re being _avoidant_.”

“Maybe that’s the smart thing to do,” Bubby mutters, crossing his arms and looking back at Harold.

Coomer sighs. “You’ve been talking for years about how you would love to get your hands on that file. What happened?”

“It’s different now.” Bubby sits up and leans against his fiancé. “I don’t know a lot about what they did to me, or what they took, but… what I do know scares me.” They wring their hands together. “What if it’s bad?”

With a frown, Coomer takes Bubby’s hand into his own. “Well, we already know it’s going to be bad, don’t we? It’s Black Mesa we’re talking about.” That gets Bubby to chuckle slightly under their breath. “I can’t make you read it, but whatever it is, it’s in the past,” he assures them. “We can handle it.”

Bubby allows themself a brief moment by Coomer’s side. It’s in times like these when the thought strikes them of how _lucky_ they are to have him. Before they’d met Harold, they had been content to sit on their own and spiral out of control. It’s nice now to have someone to ground them when they need it. They take a deep breath, and the second they let it out, they stand in front of the couch and face Harold.

“Okay,” Bubby finally says. He points at Coomer. “You’re going to stay right there. We’ll read the file together, alright?”

Coomer only smiles.

\- ○ -

The best place to start is the beginning.

_With the continuation of Biological Research’s augmentation and enhancement projects, it became apparent that Black Mesa would be unable to provide an adequate test subject through fabrication. Efforts were then put forward to identify a potential subject within the general population._

_While many subjects were considered, one was identified for extraction. Due to this subject’s limited number of family members, they were quickly selected above others. Monitoring of the residence and analysis into records revealed that this child was known as Bethany Kleiner._

Bubby stops reading out loud. “Oh, that’s. A coincidence.”

Coomer frowns, eyebrows furrowing at the document that Bubby holds so tightly in his grip. “Hang on a moment. Keep reading.”

_Preparations for the acquirement of the subject are underway. Once extraction is complete, they will be redubbed Subject B-K55. Beforehand, all of the subject’s known relatives will receive a pre-emptive blacklist from the Black Mesa Research Facility. This includes their parents, David and Lillith Kleiner, as well as their brother_

Suddenly, Bubby gasps, cutting themself off. They cover their mouth with one hand, staring down at the file in disbelief.

“Bubby?!” Coomer grabs onto his shoulder. “Are you alright!?”

“No, it’s- it isn’t a coincidence!” Bubby manages to stammer out. “I have a brother, Harold, he’s-” They pause. “Isaac’s my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it happened! they figured it out!
> 
> i have a [tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)! :)


	5. We've Met Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You used to be so small…

A strong silence falls over the two of them. Bubby’s initial electric panic has long since faded into a dull feeling worming around in their chest. Coomer has a hand on their back and leans against them, mostly in an attempt to stop Bubby from pacing around their dorm. They’re anxious, sure, but adding a little bit of movement won’t do anything but annoy their neighbors.

“What are you going to do?” Coomer finally asks, breaking the silence.

Bubby shifts slightly, resting their chin on top of Coomer’s head. “I don’t know,” he admits, clutching onto the back of his partner’s shirt.

Coomer hums lightly. “You know, he’s mentioned you before.”

“Really?” Bubby pulls back. “Like… baby me?”

Coomer nods. “He has a picture of the two of you in his locker. I asked him about it!”

Suddenly, Bubby grabs onto Coomer’s arms, eye slightly twitching. “Are you serious? What did he say?”

“Well,” Coomer thinks back, placing a finger on his chin. “It sounded to me like he loves you, and that he misses you terribly.”

Bubby’s shoulders slump, and they pretty much collapse onto Coomer’s chest. “Okay. I’m going to think about it,” he states, then lets out a long sigh. “I kinda want to keep reading. We could figure out my first surgery?”

“If you want to, darling,” Coomer smiles.

\- ○ -

It takes a while, but eventually, Bubby decides how he’s going to break the news to Kleiner. Or rather, he comes up with half a plan that he’s honestly still working out the details for when he makes it to Kleiner’s dorm.

Something propels them forward, something that they don’t quite understand. Bubby _wants_ Kleiner to know, more than they expected they would. It’s all very… foreign, the idea that he was someone. Could be someone.

There’s a moment of hesitation at the door, with their arm raised, where Bubby realizes that retreat is still an option. But they ignore it and proceed to knock as obnoxiously as they can manage.

Kleiner is, at first, confused when he opens his door, brows furrowed. But the second he sees that it’s _Bubby_ who came to visit, though, his demeanor changes.

“Oh, Bubby!” Kleiner beams, clasping his hands together. “What a nice surprise! Would you like to come inside?”

Oh no.

Oh fuck no.

He’s being _welcoming_.

It hits Bubby, all at once. That’s his _brother_ in front of him, smiling, happy to see him. Somehow, despite all the precautions Black Mesa took, they found their family again. Right here, Bubby can reclaim the life that this damned research facility stole from them! Be real! Be _human_!

And he panics.

Just in case, Bubby had brought a few of the papers from his file, in the off chance he felt the need to provide some proof to Kleiner. Instead, though, he just ends up shoving the first document—the one at the beginning of the file—into Kleiner’s hands.

“Uh, I-” Bubby struggles. Then, fight or flight kicks in, and he shouts, “Bye!” before running down the hall and back towards the trams.

Total success. It isn’t until he’s halfway back home that Bubby finally facepalms.

\- ○ -

The next day is completely about damage control. Chemical Engineering is way closer to the couple’s dorms than Anomalous Materials is, so Bubby has a little less than an hour of a head start before Coomer gets back. Besides, if they’re lucky, they’ll be able to make sure Coomer forgets _anything_ Kleiner may have told him.

Bubby hears the keys turn in the lock right on time. “Bubby-” Coomer calls out the second he’s in their dorm, but his partner is already a step ahead of him.

“Harold! Look!” Bubby gestures to the plate on the counter in front of them. “I made cookies!”

Coomer’s head tilts, finally noticing the warm, steaming pile of chocolate chip cookies. “Oh, they smell wonderful!” he exclaims. “Did you make them for a special occasion?”

Bubby shakes his head. “Have a few, if you want.”

Quickly, Coomer reaches out to snag a cookie, but just before he can grab one, he hesitates. He squints up at Bubby, who begins to nervously fidget with their hands.

“Bubby,” Coomer says slowly, “are these distraction cookies?”

“What? I-” Bubby stammers, squirming under the scrutiny of Coomer’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What would I even need to distract you from?” He leans a hand on the counter, tapping his foot.

“Really? There’s nothing you want to tell me?” Coomer asks, and Bubby avoids meeting his eyes. “Because Kleiner seemed awfully distraught today.”

Bubby crosses his arms, pointedly looking away.

“Darling,” Coomer sighs. He cups their cheek with his hand, brushing it with his thumb once again. Instantly, Bubby’s shoulders lose their tension, and their eyes drift back towards Coomer’s, saddened. “What happened?” he asked.

“I gave him one of the papers and ran away.” Bubby mopes. “I got scared.”

“Oh Bubby,” Coomer frowns. “You didn’t have to say anything. It’s your file.”

“But I wanted to!” Bubby insists, taking a step back. “I really want to tell him. I…” Their eyes widen in realization. “I want a brother.”

Coomer’s hand drifts down to hold their own, which Bubby grips onto as though their life depends on it.

They take a deep breath. “I thought I didn’t have any relatives for my whole life,” he explains, running his free hand through his hair. “They told me I was the only one. And finding out that they lied to me, and I have a brother, and I _know_ him. It’s…” they sigh. “A lot.”

“Let’s take a moment,” Coomer says. “We can make use of these wonderful cookies you made-” he gestures to the plate. “-and ruin our appetites for the night!”

And just like that, Bubby smiles. “You’re the perfect man. Has anyone ever told you that?”

\- ○ -

The cookies don’t last very long. Coomer’s stomach can be accurately described as a black hole, and in the time it takes Bubby to eat a single cookie, he’s practically eaten the rest. Which is fine, all things considered, they can always make more.

But there’s something that remains, still.

For the second time, Bubby knocks on the door of Kleiner’s dorm room. In the silence that follows, they’re once again tempted by a desire to flee.

Then, Kleiner answers, looking relieved to see Bubby, and their resolve hardens. Whatever thoughts they had left about abandoning the whole reveal and hiding in a vent disappear in an instant.

“Hey, Isaac-” Bubby starts, trying and failing to sound cool, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Bubby!” Kleiner shouts, and surprisingly, he doesn’t sound at all angry. He’s almost… worried? “What happened?! You ran off!”

Bubby winces. “I, uh. Panicked.” They wring their hands together. “The papers I had were… kind of heavy. I didn’t want to mess up, so I…” they drift off.

Kleiner sighs. “Well, I will say, you’re right about the heaviness.” He glances back into his apartment for a second. “I read over the one you gave me, and I have a few questions. Do you want to come inside?”

And, finally severing his last chance at escape, Bubby agrees.

\- ○ -

Black Mesa’s singles’ dorms, especially for more recent hires, are only slightly better than Bubby expected. Which doesn’t say a lot, to be perfectly fair, but the couch is at least somewhat tolerable, and with a few touches of home, Kleiner seems to have turned his into a fully habitable space. Except for the disorganized messes, research notes and books left out to be cleaned later. Seriously, the whole place makes Bubby itch to do some tidying up.

When Kleiner sits down at the other end of the couch, facing them, Bubby can hear the springs squeak.

Well. This is it.

“Okay,” Kleiner says, and Bubby notices that he has the paper he gave him in his hands. “First. This document is… real?”

Bubby nods. “I got it straight from the department.”

“Alright, then I suppose my next question is… what happened after?”

In a rush, Bubby feels both warm and cold at the same time. He grits his teeth together as he thinks.

Kleiner swallows. “I just- I need to know what happened to her. We just went into her room one morning, and she was gone,” he starts to ramble. “And the window was open, and-”

“Them.”

Kleiner pauses. “Huh?”

“Sometimes they go by him, too,” Bubby offers. “But mostly them.”

“Oh…” Kleiner tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. It’s just-” Kleiner struggles. “Strange. To think they grew up enough to figure that out.” He laughs, but not in a happy way. “I thought all these years that they were dead.”

Bubby glances down at the paper, and then back up at Kleiner. He’s still reeling from the shock of finding out his long-lost sibling is _alive_ after almost four decades, flicking the edges of the paperclipped photos. Shit, Bubby stared at those pictures for hours, it feels like, and they kind of want another look now too.

“Where are they?” Kleiner is very obviously fighting back some tears. “I mean, would I be able to see them? Or-”

“Isaac.” Bubby says simply.

Kleiner grows silent, and their gazes meet.

“ _I’m_ B-K55.” Tears start to well up in their eyes. “I didn’t know any of this until last week, I swear, or I would’ve told you sooner. But then they shut down the project, that’s when they gave me the file. I’m sorry if I-”

And just like that, Kleiner’s on them. He wraps them in a hug so tight that Bubby wouldn’t be able to escape if they wanted to. They’re so caught off guard that for a moment, they’re unable to react.

“You’re alive,” Kleiner whispers, but his joy is still evident. “You’re okay!”

Bubby hugs Kleiner back, holding onto him as though he might disappear. For the first time they can recall, they have their brother.

“Yeah,” they smile. “I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do I know you?"
> 
> "We've met before."
> 
> check out my [tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/) for epic content.


	6. Holiday Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! You're Jewish!

It’s difficult, at first.

Of course it’s going to be. Bubby doesn’t quite know how to be a sibling, and to be honest, the person that Kleiner knew almost forty years ago doesn’t exist anymore. Hell, Bubby doesn’t _want_ Isaac to find out just how much they’ve changed. It’s a challenge—a barrier to their relationship that they aren’t quite ready to break down.

But they do end up finding their common ground. Namely, as Coomer puts it, that they’re both giant nerds. Bubby made _one_ offhanded, stupid science pun during one of their weekly dinners, and that was it. They’ve become a duo known for their terrible sense of humor and wisecracking ability.

And then November rolls around, and Kleiner asks a question.

“Bubby?”

It’s a nice Sunday morning, and Bubby had invited Kleiner over for some coffee while Coomer went out grocery shopping. It was more of an excuse not to do any work today, but hey, any brother time is a good time to Bubby.

Bubby sets his mug down to the side, keeping a loose grip on the handle. “Yes?”

“You didn’t really get to grow up, you know, doing the things we did,” Kleiner says. “So I was wondering, what holiday do you celebrate?”

Idly, Bubby taps the ceramic of their drink. “Well, I’ve been to a few Christmas parties,” they scratch at their chin. “But Harold’s Jewish, so we mostly do Hanukkah.”

And with that, Kleiner sighs. “Oh, you’re still Jewish. Good.”

“Huh?” Bubby tilts their head.

Kleiner only seems confused by Bubby’s own confusion. “What?”

“We’re Jewish?”

It takes a second for Kleiner to process, but when he does, he laughs. “Of course we’re Jewish! Have you seen my name?”

“I don’t know!” Bubby’s face grows red, which they instinctively cover. “I didn’t think about it!”

In what is perhaps an act of mercy, Kleiner changes the topic, pushing one of Bubby’s hands away from their face. “Well, we should try to get together, at least one of the nights,” he suggests, a sincerity on his face that Bubby’s not used to seeing. “It would be nice to do the lighting with family again!”

Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they?

A warmth worms its way into Bubby’s chest. It’s happiness, definitely, but there’s also pride mixed in.

“Definitely,” Bubby can’t keep the smirk off their face. “All eight, if we can.”

\- ○ -

Kleiner is more than happy to go along with how Bubby and Coomer do Hanukkah, which is definitely easier. The first seven days, they tend to give each other small treats and trinkets, such as a favorite candy or a funny magnet. Then, on the eighth day, they would exchange their bigger gifts with each other as a sort of finale. It’s honestly easier on the wallet, and it was certainly less taxing to figure out one meaningful gift than eight of any variety.

The first few nights are pretty great! Bubby ends up throwing some of his gelt wrappers at Kleiner when he asks to have one, but that’s fair. There was also a bit of an incident on the third night where the menorah accidentally got knocked over, though there was thankfully no fire damage. They miss out on nights six and seven due to a couple of late shifts, but finally, the eighth night comes.

Bubby halts their rifling through the kitchen drawers and sighs. “We might be out of matches,” they finally admit.

“Should I go get Coomer, then?” Kleiner stands from the barstool.

“Well, let’s wait on him.” Bubby brushes past Kleiner and out of the kitchen, dramatically collapsing onto the couch. “We might have to send you back to get some from your place.”

Kleiner frowns, slumping back into his seat. “So,” he tries to play it cool. “You and Harold are engaged, right?”

Bubby chuckles. “Yeah! It’s… nice.” He rubs at his arm, smiling to himself.

“Well, how did it happen?” Kleiner asks.

Suddenly, Bubby starts blushing hard. “What?”

“Come on! Don’t tell me you don’t have an engagement story,” Kleiner grins. “Who asked who, where was it, do you have any plans yet? That stuff.”

“Oh,” Bubby gulps. “Right.” He manages to compose himself, lightly slapping his face a few times and taking a deep breath. “Actually,” he says, “It was a few months before-”

“I found some!” Coomer interrupts, brandishing a box that’s clearly seen better days. “They were all the way in the back back of the bedroom closet!”

Kleiner raises an eyebrow. “Why did you have matches in your bedroom closet?”

Bubby shrugs as he makes his way to Coomer, yanking the matchbox from him. He squints down at the box’s contents, rattling it slightly. “These look good. Wanna light ‘em tonight, Isaac?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Bubby hands the box over to him. “They look kind of janked. Maybe you have lucky hands, or whatever.”

\- ○ -

Old matches suck.

Kleiner mumbles under his breath as he tries to strike the match one more time. The wooden stick feels brittle, and since he’s already broken one match on accident, he’s hesitant to put more force in. Still, it’s apparently not enough, if the slight smoldering is anything to go by.

“Do you want me to try?” Coomer offers.

Bubby rolls his eyes. “Harold, you’ve broken every match you’ve ever tried to light.” They turn to Kleiner, watching him start to put the matches away. “Woah, wait.”

“What?” Isaac frowns. “It isn’t working. I was going to-”

“Try again.”

“Bubby-”

“Just try?” Bubby pleads.

Kleiner’s shoulder slump. “Alright.” He pulls a fresh match out, and after a breath, he strikes it against the side of the box.

Bubby blinks. The match lights up.

“Aha! I did it!” Kleiner shouts triumphantly.

“Quickly, the candle!” Coomer points to the center candle. “Before it burns out!”

Coomer gives Bubby a knowing look as they recite the prayers, which Bubby chooses to ignore. He keeps his hands folded behind his back, as if strangling them of the power he let slip.

\- ○ -

“Okay, present time!” Bubby announces, slipping a couple of suspiciously squishy wrapped gifts towards the other two seated at the table. “Not to brag, but I think I outdid myself this year.”

“You know, gift-giving is supposed to be about others,” Coomer reminds him, doling out his own gifts at the same time.

They take turns opening each other’s gifts. Kleiner got Coomer a comfy bear hat, while Coomer had gotten Kleiner a knife, supposedly for self-defense. Bubby and Coomer got each other tacky gifts, a tank top for Coomer ( _‘I FLEXED AND THE SLEEVES FELL OFF’_ ) and a hat for Bubby ( _‘I’D RATHER BE FISHING RIGHT NOW’_ ).

The siblings, though…

Kleiner inspects the sweater he just unwrapped. It’s white, with a picture of a ball on a slope stitched onto it. Underneath it is written _‘I Have Potential’_ , which is a classic Physics joke.

“Do you like it?” Bubby asks. “I haven’t knitted in a while, but I wanted to-”

“Wait,” Kleiner pauses. “You _made_ this?”

“Yeah.” Bubby rubs at the back of their neck. “It’s a fun hobby.”

Kleiner glances back at the design on the sweater. It even has a stupid, hilarious science pun.

“I love it,” he states.

Bubby nods. “Good. Now,” he eagerly begins tearing into the paper in front of him. “What did you get me?”

“Oh, well, er-” Kleiner stammers. “If you don’t like it, I could get you something else. I just thought that, since you don’t have a lot to remind you of the family, this would be a good start. But-”

He cuts himself off when Bubby pulls the picture frame from the paper. It was a good frame, Isaac had chosen it himself, but it didn’t at all compare to the photo inside. The picture was something old that Kleiner had dug up during some cleaning Bubby had guilted him into, among other family documents.

A young boy sits across from his baby sibling on the floor, holding a toy up as the baby sticks their tongue out and grabs at their brother.

Bubby gasps. “Is this us?”

Seeing the photo again manages to calm Kleiner, somewhat. “Yes,” he chuckles. “You were a cute little thing.”

Bubby stares down at the portrait in his hands. It feels heavier than its weight, as though forty years were condensed down into a single rectangle. When he looks up at his brother, it’s hard to keep his cool.

“Thank you,” he chokes out. “This is amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. im definitely not back for good. but my desire to get this out while hannukah was still happening compelled me
> 
> anyway support my recovery on [ my tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)


	7. Redacted Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idea of the truth.

Getting to know your long-lost sibling around thirty-nine years after they disappeared is certainly something. It’s difficult sometimes for Kleiner to reconcile the adult sitting across from him with the baby he knew so long ago, but he’s trying! And though Bubby isn’t really one to offer up much in the way of personal anecdotes, even hearing the odd story from five years ago from Coomer is nice.

At first, Kleiner told himself he wouldn’t press. He had no starry-eyed, idealized notion of Black Mesa in his head. The facility was fucked up beyond measure, and the thought of Bubby growing up surrounded by that? It was one he wanted to shove into a trash can in his mind.

But Bubby didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and Kleiner wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

Slowly, though, that changed. The incidents were small initially, but Bubby began to open up slightly. Like how during one of their regular coffee meetings, Kleiner asked a bit about the conversation he’d overheard in Chemical Engineering.

“Oh, that,” Bubby grimaces. “That was Dr. Daniels. He’s been in charge of my project for as long as I can remember. He died not long after that night .”

“Good,” Kleiner says in response to that last fact, a statement that throws Bubby for a loop. They look unsure, avoiding Kleiner’s gaze for the briefest of moments and slouching forward. Suddenly, though, their eyes widen, and they sit right back up.

“Yeah, you’re right,” they finally say. “It _is_ good.”

Bubby places their mug on the table, brow furrowing as they stare at the coffee, gently swishing. And something about it threatens to tear Kleiner’s heart apart. The wrongness of it all. Bubby _shouldn’t_ have memories like that—of Dr. Daniels. They were supposed to grow up together, in a small house at the end of the street. Instead, they were in Kleiner’s admittedly cramped kitchen, trying to catch up on a lifetime of memories.

It’s unfair.

Kleiner takes a sip of his coffee.

“Bubby,” he manages to ask. “Have you ever thought about leaving Black Mesa?”

And Bubby frowns. “That’s… complicated.” They fiddle with the edge of their mug.

“How so?”

“Well,” Bubby sighs. “It’s not that I _want_ to stay at Black Mesa, it’s more that… I don’t technically have a doctorate, you know. And I’m not qualified to do anything else. If I want a job, it’s gotta be here.”

Oh. Right. Actually, Kleiner hadn’t really thought about that, but it did make sense that Black Mesa wouldn’t be able to just hand Bubby a degree. Hell, it might actually be a bit of a warning sign if they could.

“But, also…” In the most simple of motions, Bubby smiles. “Harold’s here. _You’re_ here, Isaac.” He brings his mug up to his mouth, but pauses to clarify, “You two are doing great work. I wouldn’t ask you to leave it, and I won’t leave either of you.”

Bubby’s clearly trying to keep their tone casual, but their words feel significant to Kleiner. They hold a weight to them; a promise.

\- ○ -

The Hanukkah photo was the first step. It took a while, but the longer Bubby saw it and got used to it, the more he realized he was curious. The baby in that photo looks so happy to be with their brother, and it’s hard to imagine that that’s _him_. A little person whose family adored them. And maybe, if they see the rest of Kleiner’s photos, he’ll at least understand a bit about who that person could have been.

Isaac, of course, was thrilled by the prospect of sharing Bubby’s baby pictures. He’d promised to dig up as many as he could and bring them over, since Black Mesa’s singles dorms aren’t really great for receiving guests in. Once Harold had found out about the plan, though, he’d been eager to invite himself to the viewing. Actually, he’d been practically giddy about it.

Maybe they should be worried about that…

…

Oh this was a mistake.

Before they can really consider cancelling, though, there’s a knock at the door. And when Bubby opens the door to the sight of Kleiner holding a small cardboard box, it’s only then that he realizes that tonight is going to be extremely embarrassing.

\- ○ -

“Oh, look at this one! He has to be less than an hour old, here!”

“My goodness, he’s adorable!”

Bubby has to resist every urge not to hide his red face behind his hands, because some poor part of his brain still _really_ wants to see what he looked like as a baby. Unfortunately, Coomer does as well, and if they have to hear one more time about how they were the cutest thing to ever grace the planet, then they’re going to explode.

What’s even worse, though, is that Coomer brought out his own collection.

“You should see this one.” He slides a picture over to Kleiner. “They thought they were so cool!”

Bubby just barely catches a glance of a photo of himself when he was, what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six? Couldn’t have been too long after he started dating Coomer, actually.

“Wait a fucking second.” Bubby snatches the photo before Kleiner can get that good of a look. They do look younger, with a scowl on their face pointed somewhere offscreen. “I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Ah, well.” Finally, Coomer has the audacity to look at least a bit sheepish. “I made sure you weren’t looking.”

Bubby squints back down at the picture. “Why?”

“I thought you looked nice,” Coomer admits matter-of-factly.

And after a brief reprieve, Bubby’s flushed face returns in full force. This time, though, he draws his knees to his chest and buries his face in them.

“You two are killing me,” Bubby mumbles, holding the picture out for Isaac.

Kleiner plucks it from their hands. “You’re fine,” he insists.

“I will die, and it will be your fault.”

There’s a sound of papers shifting, followed by Kleiner muttering, “Hang on a moment…”

Bubby peeks out.

“I think that was it, actually,” Kleiner sighs. Almost instinctively, he reaches over and pats Bubby’s head, earning himself a glare. “You disappeared when you were around thirteen months. That’s not a lot of time…”

Kleiner’s eyes seem fixed on the photo of the newborn in his hand, though. He brushes it with his pointer finger, and in the back of Bubby’s mind, something clicks into place. They stand abruptly, much to their brother’s surprise.

“Fine,” Bubby states. “Give me a second.”

They loop around the couch, and after blindly fumbling under it for a moment, their hand finally finds purchase on what they were looking for. With a flourish, Bubby holds up their file, shaking off the dust that’s accumulated.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding that?” Coomer asks.

“Don’t worry, it’s getting a new hiding spot after tonight,” Bubby reveals. He settles back on the couch, clutching the file tightly. “Now, let me set the ground rules: This is a selective process, which means I reserve the right to withhold _any_ picture I see fit.” He glares at the two of them. “No sneaking.”

Kleiner nods, and Coomer chimes in with “Understood!”

Bubby takes a deep breath before they open their file again. It’s been a while—a _long_ while—since they last did, but everything is just as they left it. In fact, he thinks he might know where the first good picture is as he flips forwards slightly.

“Alright.” They undo the paperclip, slipping the photo to Kleiner. “This is me and Dr. Cynthia, one of the good ones. The notes say I was around fourteen months here.”

Dr. Cynthia had taken an immediate liking to Bubby, and judging by the picture, the feeling was mutual. She held him up to the camera with such a happy look on her face. Bubby’s struck with the thought that it was the first time in over a month that someone had loved him.

And Isaac has tears welling up in his eyes.

“No, shit,” Bubby struggles. “Don’t cry, fuck.” They pull Kleiner into a hug without really thinking.

Kleiner wipes away the few tears that escaped. “I’m fine, Bubby, seriously,” he says, but his voice sounds shaky. “It’s just… I didn’t get to see you grow up.”

Oh.

Crap.

“Okay, we don’t have to look at them anymore-” Bubby tries to put the file down.

“No wait!” Kleiner’s almost frantic as he grabs onto Bubby’s wrist. He takes a breath. “I want to see them.”

“You’re sure?”

Kleiner nods.

“Alright.” Bubby shakes his hand off them. “But we’re taking a break if you need it.”

\- ○ -

Seeing the rest of Bubby’s childhood was certainly a mixed bag of emotions. They were such a cute little kid. There was a picture of them after they got their first pair of glasses, with a smile bright enough to light up a room. And then in their teenage years, their facial expressions gradually melted into “teen angst”. It was especially funny when Kleiner held up a picture of Bubby pouting when he was a baby, and they realized he was making the same face in both photographs.

Kleiner loved it, truly, but there was an underlying melancholy to it all. He should have seen this all himself. Bubby was taken away from their family, and for what?

That question sticks in their head. For what? Bubby’s clearly been skipping over large parts of their childhood, ignoring the bad parts and sharing the good. And that makes sense, of course, but…

Well, Kleiner read that first paper. Bubby was taken for augmentation and enhancement.

They _did_ something to him.

“I’ll see you sometime next week,” Bubby promises as they see Kleiner out of their dorm. “Maybe we’ll do another dinner?”

“That would be nice,” Kleiner agrees. He’d stayed later than he meant to, but the trams would run for another hour or so. He has time for goodbyes.

“I’ll talk to you about it at work!” Harold calls from the seating area, where he’s still sorting the picture mess.

Bubby rolls their eyes, but they lean in, pulling Kleiner into another hug. “Thank you.”

Kleiner’s always happy about some genuine emotion from their sibling, but it’s a bit sudden. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know, really,” Bubby chuckles to himself. “Being my brother, I guess? Accepting me?”

“Like I wouldn’t welcome you back.” Kleiner returns the hug for a brief moment, before pulling back. “I’ll look at my schedule next week.”

Bubby waves his brother off. “Bye, Isaac.”

“Bye Bubby.”

And Isaac Kleiner decides. He is going to get his hands on that file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you saw me accidentally post chapter 7 last week no you didn't. it especially was not a chapter of another fic entirely. i would NEVER DO THAT.
> 
> happy 2021 by the way.
> 
> [reblog this fic on tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/post/639149657597132800/do-i-know-you-chapter-7) or check out [my blog](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)


	8. You'll Be Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor warning, bubby has a tube flashback

Now, Kleiner knows a lot about abnormal things. They are, afterall, his job. Anomalous Materials is an… _interesting_ place to land, but it at least gives him some perspective on how weird the world can be. The far end of what’s possible.

And Bubby showing up at his door at 1 AM, with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders? It’s definitely teetering on that end.

“Bubby?” Kleiner asks. The trams stopped running about three hours ago, how did they even _get_ here?

“Hey, I-” Bubby swallows, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Harold’s not home, so. Uh.”

Right, Coomer got selected to go to a conference this week. It’s gonna be a few days before he gets back, at least. And Bubby is… scared.

“Oh, well,” Kleiner glances at his TV. “I have some movies, if you want to watch something?”

Bubby’s shoulders visibly relax, and they smile. “Sure. That’s good.”

\- ○ -

And so, an hour and a half later, Kleiner finds himself sitting on his couch with Bubby passed out on his shoulder, softly snoring. Their blanket is draped over them, gently rising and falling with each breath. The TV has long since been muted, but the light is still flashing across them. Everything is calm and still, except for one thing.

Kleiner is worried.

The only way Bubby could have gotten here, so late, was if he walked. Which, while not impossible, is still quite a feat to do. Especially since he was asleep not long after, it was clear that _something_ was keeping them awake.

He lost his little sibling for years. He can only imagine the life they lived in that time.

Bubby shifts his head slightly, groaning as his eyes wrench themselves tightly shut. Kleiner frowns.

A terrible thing happened to them both. He can only try to make it better.

Almost instinctively, Kleiner reaches over and brushes his pointer finger against Bubby’s right cheek. Bubby sighs, and just like that, the nightmare is banished. They adjust their head one last time, before settling into their peaceful sleep.

Looks like his old tricks still work.

\- ○ -

Bubby winces as they wake up in the morning, both from the embarrassment of having run to their brother the second they got scared at night and the fact that they slept on a shitty couch and their body hurts. Kleiner passes by as they sit up, the springs creaking under them, and offers a few friendly head pats.

“Good morning,” he grins as he sits on the other end of the couch. “You slept for a while.”

“Oh.” Bubby slumps a little. “What time is it?”

“A little past noon,” Kleiner states.

Bubby groans. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I didn’t want to make too much noise in the kitchen, in case you needed sleep. But I have some food here if you’re interested?”

Unfortunately, Black Mesa’s singles dorms leave much to be desired when it comes to food preparation. Kleiner’s dorm has a meager stove that takes forever to heat up, but eventually they’re able to scrape together enough cooked eggs for Bubby’s breakfast and Isaac’s lunch.

It’s a nice and quiet meal. Bubby’s almost relieved not to have to shepherd Coomer out of the kitchen whenever he tries to eat the whole container of raw eggs. Almost.

Fuck, _fuck! _It’s alright! It isn’t even going to be that big of a deal when it’s over and done with. Harold’s going to be back by the end of the day on Monday, and Bubby’s going to be able to see and spend time with him again, and they won’t worry about him being gone anymore. Have they seriously not spent a night apart since they moved in with each other? G*d, that’s pathetic.__

__He can handle himself until Monday! Just gotta finish these eggs, get out of Kleiner’s hair, head back to the… empty… dorm…_ _

__Bubby’s stomach twists and turns itself into knots. Maybe he got a little too used to company. Maybe…_ _

__Maybe he just never liked being alone._ _

__“Hey, uh.” Bubby sets their fork to the side for a second. “What are you doing today?”_ _

__Kleiner startles at the abrupt conversation, but he smiles. “Well, not much, actually. I might need to do a bit of shopping.” He pauses, glancing at Bubby. “But it can wait if you want to do something.”_ _

__“Yes!” Bubby blurts out excitedly, but they quickly regain their composure. “Uh, yeah. I would like that.”_ _

__Kleiner chuckles at him._ _

____

\- ○ -

Selfish.

Needy.

Clingy.

They’re not sure where it’s all coming from. There have been afternoons where Bubby doesn’t see Harold for hours, so it probably has something to do with the overnight aspect. Sure, they’d never gotten the best sleep when they lived on their own, but it’s not like they had an issue with-

_There’s pure oxygen being fed into his lungs but he feels like he’s choking there’s a dull ache that is both unnatural and familiar in their back the wires in spine keeps them suspended his limbs feel like lead and they want to sleep so bad so very bad but they just can’t drift off please let them sleep tonight please please_

Yikes.

Bubby has to shake that memory from their mind.

Okay, so maybe they had problems with sleeping in the past. But that practically stopped the first time they shared a bed with Coomer.

Squished onto his twin mattress in his shitty old dorm, Bubby was awake for hours after Coomer fell asleep. He snored a bit, but honestly, Bubby didn’t mind. The novelty of having another person by their side was good.

Too good.

That’s why they were awake. They were waiting for something. The other shoe had to drop, because it just didn’t make any sense. After all these years, he was just allowed to do whatever he wanted now? No, the folks at Biological Research would break down his door and reprimand him for “fraternization”. For getting too close. For not knowing their place.

In his sleep, Coomer shifted ever so slightly. His arm, which had been laying outstretched previously, curled in, resting his hand on Bubby’s back. Holding him.

Bubby tensed, their breath hitching. And then, as though they had nothing to worry about at all, they rested their hand on Coomer’s chest, curled into his side, and closed their eyes.

They let their guard down, but they hadn’t exactly abandoned the fear that put it up in the first place.

Bubby realizes this as they pace their bedroom. They’d spent the whole day with Kleiner, even managing to rope him into staying the night on the couch. Which is a little mean to poor Isaac’s bones, considering he’s the older of the two of them.

The thing is, he’s going to start asking questions, and Bubby’s not sure how he’ll answer them.

Harold had mentioned to him one night, about a month ago, that he should tell Isaac about the experiments. The pyrotechnics, the intellect, the trials. Come clean about what happened and how it affected them.

And Bubby had responded with, “Ha! No.”

Which looped back to selfishness. It’s not that he couldn’t talk to Kleiner about it. Hell, he still had the file stashed away somewhere. The only thing he’d have to do was hand it over.

It’s that he didn’t want to.

Bubby shivered, and a glance at the thermostat told him that the heat was on. Damn these underground dorms, even the best ones ran cold.

Oh! He should grab an extra blanket for Isaac! That would be a good start to showing they could be a kind, courteous person who didn’t usually take over someone else’s entire weekend. They even pick out one of the better blankets for him, just to be nice.

Bubby takes a deep breath before pushing open the door.

He’s immediately greeted by the sight of Kleiner startling, frantically hiding something behind his back. He sits up straight.

“Bubby!” Isaac shouts. “It’s, er. Late, isn’t it? What are you doing awake?”

Bubby blinks, eyes flicking towards where Kleiner’s hands disappear behind his back.

“I was getting you another blanket.” Bubby states. “Are you… doing something?”

“No! I-” he swallows. “Are you feeling better? I know today was difficult for you.”

Bubby’s jaw tightens.

Alright.

“Actually, yeah,” Bubby admits, slowly moving to sit down next to their brother. “I’ve been thinking about things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well,” Bubby says. “I wanted to thank you. Because you put everything you had aside to help me today, and I… I needed someone to do that.”

Kleiner offers a genuine smile, patting their shoulder.

“So, thanks, Isaac.” Bubby holds his arms out, offering a hug.

And like a sucker, Isaac takes it.

For a few seconds, Bubby allows themself the joy and happiness of hugging their older brother. Then, they spot the papers he hid behind his back, and he snatches them.

“Bubby wait!” Kleiner shouts, but he’s not able to wrestle the file away before Bubby sees the title.

 _B-K55_.

Bubby’s eyes narrow at his brother. “Where did you get that?”

“I- I found it.”

“You found it.”

Kleiner nods.

Bubby deadpans. “You found a very personal, very private document that I hid in the cupboard by jamming it behind the drawers? You accidentally came upon that?”

At the very least, Kleiner has the dignity to know when he’s caught red handed. He doesn’t respond.

“Alright.” Bubby pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> [reblog this fic on tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/post/641850204095643648/do-i-know-you-chapter-8) or check out [my blog](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)


	9. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay up late.

Bubby is seething. He’s trying to keep his cool, really, he is! But he’s grinding his teeth together gripping onto the file so tight that if it wasn’t paper it would have snapped in half. Because seriously? Are you fucking kidding? Digging through the file _behind_ their back, when they so graciously allowed Kleiner to spend a night?

“I… I was just trying to understand!” Kleiner quickly explains. “I don’t know _anything_ about what happened to you after you disappeared!”

“That’s a good thing!” Bubby snaps. “You aren’t supposed to know about anything in here!”

“Why? Because you have some secret government documents stashed away in your apartment?” he remarks. “It’s not like they’ll kill me.”

Bubby sighs. “No, Isaac. The stuff in here?” They hold up the file. “It's bad. And it’s in the past. I don’t want you worrying over stuff that doesn’t even matter!”

“But it does matter!” Kleiner argues. “Bubby, if they hurt you-”

“ _Stop._ ”

Kleiner almost shrivels under Bubby’s harsh glare.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” they state. “You’d pity me.”

“Bubby-”

“Do you think I want that? To be pitied by _both_ of the people I care about the most?”

“Bubby, wait-!”

“G*d, it’s bad enough that Harold knows. I didn’t even tell him, he found out on accident! And now all he does is worry about me. You shouldn’t have to do that!”

“Bubby!”

“And I like how things are now! I don’t want our relationship to change because-”

“BUBBY!”

The shout is enough to finally break Bubby out of their monologue. “What!?”

Kleiner points at their head and shouts, “Your hair’s on fire!”

Oh. Bubby pauses, eyes flicking up towards the top of the head.

Yeah, that's fire.

Panicked, Bubby quickly pats their smoldering hair down, leaving no damage aside from some smoke. Just one glance at Kleiner, nervous and awestruck, tells him the cat’s out of the bag.

Crap.

\- ○ -

Kleiner insists on smothering Bubby’s head with a damp towel, even after the fire has been patted out. They stiffen when it’s tossed over their face, the wet chill an unwelcome presence. But, ultimately, they decide to leave it there as they lean back on the couch. Talking’s much easier when you can’t see.

“Alright,” Bubby says before Kleiner can speak. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to-”

Bubby raises his hand, and with a deep breath, a familiar warmth covers the tips of their fingers. It drips down towards their palm.

Kleiner shouts in alarm, and Bubby hears him fall off the couch. He tries not to feel too bad about it.

“It’s fine.” Bubby’s able to keep their tone even.

“You can set yourself on fire?”

Bubby hums. “And other things. I’m resistant.” They shake the fire off their hand. “Got it when I was twelve. It…” The next word dangles on their tongue. Should they play it up? Say it’s cool? Useful? Fun, even?

_It burned the first time they used it. Not physically, but it felt like it did. It was like their whole body was revolting against the idea of using it, and they cried. They cried, and cried, and cried so hard that eventually the scientists decided to stop for the day._

They tell the truth.

“It hurt.” Bubby rubs their forearm, self-consciously. 

Kleiner gets back on his feet. “They did that to a _child_?”

Carefully, Bubby slips the towel off of his head, just as Kleiner sits at his side. For a moment, as their eyes meet, a flash of panic strikes through Bubby’s heart. This is it, isn’t it? Kleiner knows a little bit about what they did to him, and he’s going to hate it. See that they’re more of a messed up experiment than a human being, give up, and-

And Isaac pulls him into a hug.

At first, Bubby is too stunned to do anything.

“I’m sorry I looked at your file,” Kleiner says. “I shouldn’t have done that. But I was so scared that you were hurting because of the stuff in there, and I just-” His grip around them tightens. “I wanted to know why they took my baby sibling.”

Oh. Fuck.

And Bubby hugs their brother back, resting their forehead on his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have gotten angry,” Bubby confesses. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known…”

Neither of them let go.

\- ○ -

It’s a while before either of them speak. Bubby’s content to just let the silence hang over them, like a comforting blanket. After the stress of the night—the whole weekend, if he’s being honest—it’s nice to just take a moment to let his nerves settle. Breathing deeply, holding onto their brother, and finally calming down.

He’s not irked, however, when Kleiner asks a question.

“So,” he starts. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Slowly, Bubby can feel the anxiety creep up on them, buzzing around with a nervous energy. It’s like, for a moment, his ears are filled with static and his brain is moving a mile a minute. He backs away and meets eyes with Kleiner.

The buzzing stops.

“Yeah. Sure.”

There’s silence as Bubby tries to figure out what to say next. Kleiner is patient, waiting by their side. Just him being there, a foreign source of warmth, is nice.

Bubby decides to be blunt.

“I don’t like you and Coomer knowing about-” He stops, swallowing his words. “-the experiments.”

“Why?” Kleiner frowns.

“You know that you have my old job, right?” Bubby asks, but they don’t wait for an answer. “Well, someone else has had it since then, but that’s actually how I met Harold. He was right out of his divorce, new to Black Mesa, and I wasn’t really sociable. It was a while before we actually started dating.”

They sigh. “I didn’t want to ever tell him. Things were good, it was the happiest I’d been in years. And I couldn’t risk losing him over something I technically wasn’t even allowed to say. I was going to let it stay that way.”

Kleiner says nothing, but he places a hand on Bubby’s shoulder as they continue to speak.

“But I ended up getting… really hurt, one day.” His posture straightens subconsciously. “Dr. Cynthia knew about Harold, and she knew I’d want to see him. So she ended up calling him in.”

Bubby laughs, but not out of joy. “She got in trouble for that, but he was there when I woke up. Dr. Cynthia told him a few things, and he asked me if it was true, and I-” They take a breath, composing themself. “I mean, you’ve seen him. The man hates it whenever I go _near_ that lab.”

“And you don’t like that,” Kleiner reasons. “The worrying.”

“Of course I don’t!” Bubby slumps back on the couch, covering their face with their hands. “You two shouldn’t have to bother with any of that. It wouldn’t be fair, it’s my baggage.”

“Well, you’re right that it’s not fair,” Kleiner relents. “But that isn’t your fault.”

Bubby peeks out from behind their fingers.

“It’s unfair that you had to grow up the way you did. It’s unfair that you were taken away,” Kleiner explains. “But Coomer and I don’t hold that against you. We both care about you, and you know that.”

“I know,” Bubby says.

“And whether you tell me anything more or not, and whether it’s good or bad-” Kleiner reaches towards his sibling, lightly brushing a finger on their cheek. “We’re going to be fine.”

Bubby at first, relaxes with the touch. But then his eyes widen, and he sits up to face his brother. “What was that?”

Kleiner immediately begins fumbling over himself. “It- I mean, I was trying to be comforting, but-”

“No, I mean. How did you know to do that?”

Now it’s Kleiner’s turn to be confused. “Huh?”

“That’s- I’ve been doing that to myself for years. It made me feel safe,” Bubby explains. “I had to _tell_ Coomer what it meant. Did he say something?”

Kleiner shakes his head. “Bubby, no, I-” He takes a moment. “You cried a lot when you were a baby. That was how I used to calm you down.”

And Bubby can almost imagine it. Isaac, almost six years old, reaching down into the crib of a _very_ fussy baby. With just a single touch, a finger on a cheek, the crying stops, and the two just

Look. At each other.

“Oh,” Bubby says. “It was you.”

He laughs. Not a small giggle, or an empty chuckle, but the biggest laugh he’s had in a long while. Isaac almost smiles along with him, but he feels as though he’s out of the loop on what the big joke is.

“All this time, it was you!” Bubby has to wipe tears away from his eyes, gasping between laughs. “It’s like you were there all along!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow payoff for the finger brushing bubby's cheek.
> 
> "fucked up ending where someone says biological research in front of bubby and he explodes" -my beta
> 
> [reblog this fic on tumblr](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/post/643321322276110336/do-i-know-you-chapter-9) or check out [my blog](https://bubbyleh.tumblr.com/)


End file.
